


The Hanging Gardens

by Cryswimmer



Series: I Look Forward to It [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:36:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryswimmer/pseuds/Cryswimmer
Summary: The Doctor takes River on a date...





	

The Hanging Gardens

 

He had never wanted to change. Most of the time, regeneration was simply a matter of necessity and he took it with aplomb. This time had been different. Maybe it was all that he had been leaving behind – Rose, and Martha, and Donna, and even Wilfred – or maybe he was just tired of having to leave everything, every time. It was the life of a Time Lord, the leaving, and he normally managed the transition by looking to his future rather than back at his past. It simply was, because he didn't dare change his own timeline. But this was one of the few times he had truly regretted leaving behind who he had been.

 

He had simply felt hollow, from the time he had been injured beyond life, right up until the moment he had regenerated. He supposed what had changed his mind and given him the energy to keep going was looking into the wide, trusting eyes of Amelia Pond. From the moment he had met her, she had become a part of him. He had wanted to give her the world that had been taken from her by the eccentricities of the universe. He had wanted to show her the world, and he had begun to do so. Amy had become a vital part of him, and he loved having adventures with her. He even enjoyed bringing Rory along, and the way she lit up when he was around. He wondered how long it would be before Amy noticed.

 

So far, he and Amy had battled aliens on Earth and discovered Monsters on space stations. They had battled Daleks and avoided Weeping Angels. He tried not to think of how close he had come to losing her to those Angels. He tried not to think of her blind, and helpless, and yet trusting him even when he didn't trust himself. If it hadn't been for River...

 

River Song. Now that was a strange and erratic thought. She at once fascinated him and terrified him. He knew very well who and what she would someday be to him, but for now she was an imposition and a puzzle. She made him nervous, because he knew he was looking at his future. He saw things in her that he didn't understand, and he was still reluctant to trust her. Apparently at some point he would, but that point was not today, not entirely.

 

No, today he was less than trusting. He had learned that she was in prison for murder, and that simply didn't engender faith. He abhorred killing in any form, and even when it was unavoidable he resented it. It also didn't mesh with the sacrifice she had made in the Library. A woman willing to sacrifice herself for four thousand people – and for him – didn't seem like the type of person to kill indiscriminately. Still, he couldn't deny that she intrigued him. He had to wonder if he would be as affected if he hadn't already met her, hadn't seen her greatest sacrifice. Who was she to him? Wife, apparently, but what else? Companion? Confidant? He had met her for the first time in the library, but when would she meet him for the first time? His mind was filled with questions that she hadn't begun to answer on the beach.

 

But she had saved Amy. Granted, she had been smug about it to the point of annoyance, but she had done it. She had stayed right with him, and she had worked at that damned teleporter until she made it work. She had been the one to rescue Amy – not him – and she hadn't gloated as much as he might have expected. In fact, she had seemed as relieved to get Amy to safety as he had been. That was another point of curiosity... she had an amazing affinity with Amy. None of it made any sense to him, and he could not abide that level of a mystery.

 

It occurred to him that perhaps, just perhaps he needed to give her another chance. Perhaps she had a good reason for a murder necessitating imprisonment at Stormcage. Perhaps there were... extenuating circumstances. He knew more than most that even the most peaceful person could be driven to war. If he had been placed on trial for every murder he had committed, even his nearly eternal lifetime could not begin to address the number of years that a tribunal would insist on. Still, River didn't seem particularly peaceful. She was... intriguing. She was something. He wanted so much to understand what.

 

Maybe if he met her on his terms, instead of waiting for hers, he could get a better grasp on things. She certainly already knew him, and it wasn't as though he didn't know when and where to find her. She was in prison, after all. Where could she go? And if she was at Stormcage, she was one of a very few, very high-security prisoners. It would only be so hard to get to her.

 

It took a few moments for the TARDIS to pull up the information he needed. He often searched for people through time and space so this was little different, but it still surprised him how quickly and easily the TARDIS had located both her records – he avoided looking at the sealed documents on principle – and her location. He would just hop over to Stormcage cell sixty-five, borrow River for a bit, and see what he could piece together. He didn't want to alter the future, but he did want to fill in some of the the blanks. It made him decidedly uncomfortable that she knew so much more about him than he knew about her.

 

He set the controls for Stormcage, a week into the future, thinking that she would likely be bored enough to be willing to talk. He would provide a diversion. He might even enjoy himself a bit. Records didn't indicate a pardon in the current time, so he set course for a friendly visit.

 

Navigating inside Stormcage was not difficult. As secure as the prison was, guarded from teleports and transports, the technology of the TARDIS far surpassed their firewalls and fail-safes. A quick check of historical documentation had given a complete map of the prison – it would eventually become a tourist site long after it's closure – and he landed the TARDIS just outside her cell door.

 

When he opened the door, he found her standing at her cell door with a generous smile on her face. “Hello, Sweetie,” she said simply. “Where are we going tonight?”

 

There was no surprise in her. “We've done this before?” he asked her, feeling a prickle along the back of his neck.

 

She frowned slightly, then her expression cleared. “Must be an early you,” she told him. “And yes, you visit often.”

 

“How often?” he wondered aloud.

 

“Often enough,” she replied, caution creeping into her voice. “You'll have me back a moment after we leave,” she told him. “Where are we going?” Her eyes were alight with excitement.

 

“Where do we usually go?”

 

“Spoilers,” she warned him. “Do you want to choose, or should I?”

 

He looked at her a moment, then shook his head. The sonic screwdriver made quick work of the cage door, and she stepped out and walked to the TARDIS without looking back. Shaking his head again, he followed her into his ship.

 

It was with more than a little surprise that he realized she was very adeptly setting coordinates into his TARDIS. What shocked him more was that his ship was tolerating it. She didn't like to be fiddled with, his girl. She didn't always take orders from him, and he couldn't fathom why she accepted this so easily. He had noted it before – on the way to the Byzantium – but he hadn't understood it. He looked over her shoulder, did a few mental calculations, and realized she was taking them to Earth's hanging gardens of Babylon.

 

“Iraq?” he asked.

 

“Not at the time,” she corrected. “Nineveh for a while, and at the time we're going it was Assyria. You promised me all the ancient wonders, Doctor. Something about soothing the archaeologist in me.”

 

She eased the TARDIS into motion, soundless and smooth. If he hadn't been looking at the controls, he wouldn't have believed they were moving. How could she be better at this than he was? How could his TARDIS tolerate this? He placed a hand on her console and felt his ship's peace, and almost humor, with his confusion.

 

“How can you fly her?” The question slipped from him, even as he knew he shouldn't ask. He couldn't know too much about the future without compromising it.

 

“ You taught me some,” River said softly, making a minute adjustment. “ She taught me more,” she added with a shrug. She watched him for a moment, then sighed. “I don't know how much to tell you. In your future, you know a great deal from this past. It's all so intertwined. I suppose I should just relax and let things fall as they may. If I do change my present, I'll never know it. The time line will just cease to exist.”

 

“As a time traveler, you might remember more than you think.”

 

“But you can't miss what you've never had. Still, I don't really want to take the chance.” She made an adjustment on the console. “But what if not answering is the change, and answering was the right thing? How do you do this?” She gave a gentle laugh. “I'm developing a bit more respect for you. I've always been the young one.”

 

“I try to stay out of my own time line,” he admitted. “It's a good deal safer that way. You seem to be my exception to that. He looked at her for a moment, and then stamped his foot as his mood shifted rapidly from confusion to frustration. “I don't know how to do this, either!” His voice had risen with every word. “You drop into my life, and I feel things... and I know things... and I don't know enough. I don't even know what I should try to find out! Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?”

 

“Oh, yes I do,” she said softly, a gentle smile on her face. “And yelling about it won't make it any easier. I'd forgotten about the temper tantrums,” she mused almost absently. “Thankfully you develop a little bit of control as you get older.”

 

The irritation in his face faded as he closed his eyes. “I hate that you know that. I hate that you know me better than I know myself. And the TARDIS... she only listens to me! How am I supposed to deal with this?”

 

“You once told me to just live it,” she told him, her voice very soft. “I suppose I should tell you the same. Let it be, and let it all play out on its own.”

 

“That doesn't sound like me.”

 

“It isn't. Not yet. Give it time.”

 

“I don't suppose I have a choice,” he complained. “Taking this as it comes, then. You get to lead.”

 

“Lucky me,” she said with a smile. “Well, let's go for a walk, Sweetie.”

 

“As soon as we land,” he agreed, still wishing he was in the lead.

 

That widened her smile. “We've already landed,” she told him. “Assyrian Empire, 605 B.C. We're outside the city, so we should be able to see the gardens without running into anyone problematic. We probably should change, though. You still have robes in the wardrobe, yes? Or are you going to rely on the perception filter?”

 

“How did you...? Never mind. Yes, we can change.”

 

She changed first into a simple robe of a course material, very dated and slightly dirty. When she was out of the dressing room, he grabbed a similar robe to throw over his clothes. He didn't remember when or where he had picked the robes up, but certainly sometime in his travels. He had been through most of ancient Egypt and Rome at one point or another. Human history fascinated him, and he was intrigued and amazed by the colorful past that Earth held. Given that, were he not a Time Lord, he might considered archeology himself. Perhaps. But then, if he hadn't been a Time Lord, he never would have encountered the humanity of Earth in the first place.

 

She had landed the TARDIS in a series of caves outside the city proper. It was concealed enough that it wouldn't be conspicuous to travelers. As he exited, he noted the dry, desert terrain. Walls of stone surrounded him, gray and dismal. They hiked down from the hills and found the primary road into the city. They wouldn't be going all the way in, and he hoped they didn't run into any traffic. Normally he loved interacting with the indigenous life, but for now he just wanted to make sense of the mystery.

 

“Why did you become an archaeologist? he asked her.

 

She shrugged as she slid her arm through his, walking beside him. “Many reasons,” she admitted. “I've always loved the past. My own is... questionable. I love to discover significant events, learn about fascinating people. There are other reasons as well, but those are what I'll admit to for now.” They walked a bit more before she told him, “I answered your question, so it's my turn. What is your last memory of me?”

 

He gave her a searching look. “Why?”

 

“Because I need to know where you are in time. We never meet in the right order, Doctor. If I know where you've come from, I can keep better track of what I can say.”

 

“We just left the Byzantium,” he said.

 

“Early days, indeed,” she said brightly. “I'll keep it in mind.”

 

“It was only a week ago,” he told her.

 

“Galifreyan time; real time,” she agreed. She paused a moment, clearly deliberating on what she would say next. “Prison time... Let's just say that I don't spend a great deal of my time there. I keep a calendar so that I won't lose track, but time is less... concrete to me.”

 

“So how long has it been?” he asked. “Your time?”

 

“Spoilers,” she said firmly. “Now, why have you come to get me?”

 

“Consider it a... need to know you. It's not something I can explain, and I'll have you know that I'm usually very loquacious.”

 

“Oh, don't I know it,” she told him, and her soft laugh was easy, comfortable. “You know, I sometimes think our lives would be easier if we just lived them in a straight line, without all the back and forth. I know they wouldn't be as interesting, but it would at least be less confusing. I'm spending all this time worried about what to say and what not to say, and I'm sure you have the same difficulty in the future.”

 

They walked along together, her left arm through his right, for a long time. He didn't feel the need to speak, even though he had so many more questions than answers. Her presence soothed him, even as it energized him. They walked along for a bit in silence, then stepped out onto a small rise.

 

“Oh...” Her voice was hushed and reverent.

 

He followed her gaze to the lush greenery which climbed the hillside before them. A midst the endless beige of the desert, the deep green was startling, as were the touches of red and yellow and purple. There were trees and flowers so close together that they meshed into a multicolored rainbow sprinkled through the multiple green shades. He knew she could never have seen anything like it, not even in the history books she so enjoyed.

 

“It's times like this I understand why you love it here,” she breathed.

 

“Here?” Had he brought her here... would he bring her here?

 

“Earth,” she replied. “A people who could imagine this, and then create it, when they had so little to work with. They engineered aqueducts to bring water, and they gathered the plants from all over the continent.” She turned to face him, placing her hands on his chest as she looked in his eyes. “No wonder you care so much for them. Given their tendency towards war and self-destruction, I didn't understand at first. But the more you show me, the more I comprehend.”

 

“You keep saying 'they'. You're one of them, aren't you? Human?”

 

“I'm not... born of Earth,” she admitted. “Not born on Earth.”

 

“Your parents?” he asked.

 

“From Earth,” she told him agreeably. “They... traveled. That's all I can say about them.”

 

He accepted that; knowing he was treading a fine line. “What is your favorite place in space or time?” he asked.

 

“Wherever I am,” she said. “Life is to be lived in the present. The past and the future are lovely places to visit as well, but one can't live there. The past is for regrets, and the future is for hope.”

 

“How did you get so wise?” he asked, thinking that what she was saying mirrored his own thoughts.

 

She smiled again, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. “You taught me.”

 

He understood too well what she was saying. For a long time, they said no more. Presence seemed to be more than words with them. It was not something he was familiar with. His companions were usually talkative, especially when they first started to travel with him. It led him to believe that he had traveled with River Song long before in her time, and much later in his own time line.

 

They walked for hours through the desert surrounding the gardens, and finally walked back towards the TARDIS. They talked of everything except their joint past and future. They discussed places, debated significant points of history with his views as a Time Lord and her often opposing views as an archaeologist. At times they argued and at other times they agreed so strongly that he wondered just how many years she must have known him. She listened avidly as he spoke of Galifrey – something he never felt comfortable doing – memories he had not acknowledged to any of his companions, no matter now often he had been asked – and he felt that it was completely natural. Over time, the tension he had initially felt at coming to see her out of time was eliminated as the peace of getting to know a kindred spirit was realized.

 

They finally had to board the TARDIS, and he was faced with setting coordinates. He was strangely reluctant to return her so soon to Stormcage. Partly his reluctance was purely enjoying her company, and the rest was the deep belief that she didn't belong in prison. She might be opinionated and sassy, perhaps even a bit self-serving, but she wasn't a criminal. He would have bet his life on it. In addition, she had demonstrated unwavering loyalty to him on the occasions he had met her, and the one thing a villain could never do was trust him.

 

“What's wrong?” she asked as he stood and stared at the console, trying to decide what he wanted to do.

 

“Why don't I want to put you back behind bars?” he asked softly.

 

She gave him a smile that was heartbreaking. “Oh, Sweetie, someday you'll have the answer to that. But telling you tonight would break every rule, and as much as I want to do it, I know better. You'd never forgive me.”

 

“What I think is important to you?” he asked, his voice still quiet.

 

“It's everything to me,” she admitted. “And someday, believe it or not, what I say will matter to you as well.”

 

River trailed a hand over the TARDIS console as she moved to stand several feet away, right in front of the controls that were where he would have to make adjustments as soon as he began their trip. He was reminded again that she knew his ship, and cared for her. The TARDIS was a living organism, but most beings couldn't understand this. Even Rose hadn't fully understood the capabilities of his ship, and she had briefly shared her soul. Donna had probably understood for a brief time, but she would never remember. River seemed to comprehend it on a visceral level, and she demonstrated the understanding in the way she spoke to the TARDIS, touched her controls, kept her hands in place long after the controls were set as though she just enjoyed the contact. It was something he could never teach, and yet River possessed.

 

It purely fascinated him.

 

Giving in to the inevitable, he moved along side her and nudged her out of the way to set coordinates to the Stormcage Confinement Facility, then dematerialized his TARDIS. Before he could shift to input secondary instructions, River was already making adjustments, smoothing out their flight, and using those damned blue stabilizers which he rarely bothered with. The TARDIS was designed for flight by six or more Time Lords, and in learning to fly it himself he had eliminated less essential controls. Having River to assist made the trip much more pleasant, smoother and easier. He couldn't help but enjoy it. He would never admit that – not in a thousand lifetimes – but he did enjoy it.

 

As they neared their destination, she made a couple more adjustments and they stilled. He looked over at her curiously.

 

“I just want a minute,” she requested.

 

“For what?” he asked, anticipating a request he would not be willing to give.

 

“Just...” She looked away for a moment, and then walked over to him. With her eyes uncharacteristically downcast, she slipped her arms around his body and put her head on his shoulder, holding him gently.

 

He stood for a moment with his arms out slightly, too surprised to react. She hadn't seemed the type to be tender. Then again, the more he got to know her, the less he realized she was as she had first appeared. When he finally realized that she wasn't doing anything else, that she simply wanted or needed a hug, he gently put his arms around her.

 

They stood for several minutes in one another's arms, and then she let go. Her eyes were a bit damp, but she gave him a steady smile and thankfully no tears fell.

 

“Thank you,” she said simply.

 

“My pleasure,” he answered, and was slightly surprised to realize how much he meant that. He made another adjustment to the panel, and heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing. “You're back,” he told her.

 

“Thank you for the lovely evening,” she told him. “I had a wonderful time.”

 

“I'm glad.”

 

“And I'll see you next time,” she told him, reaching up to kiss him softly on the cheek.

 

He smiled and turned to watch her leave the TARDIS, and he was shocked at how much he wanted to go after her, to bring her back, and to keep her with him. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. It was in his nature. But he didn't do it, because he knew the absolute and painful truth.

 

A little knowledge could be a good thing, but too much would be dangerous.


End file.
